The scene stopped me in my tracks,
Crimson bursting through darkly gray.
"Another cold, dark morning," I mused.
As I turned to walk away...
"Beware the Ires of March, Watchman!
Scoffers attack like mad hornets!
I AM stirring their secret hives,
Exposing their darkly terror.
They will reap what they have sown,
When I unleash My holy terror!"
"How do I confirm this, Lord?"
"Better than a sign to see
Are the direct words from Me.
So, beware the Ires of March!"
Green Goblin, Green Goblin, how terrible you are.
And only for a serum have you become a superstar.
A star of infamy and Spider-man’s worst foe,
spreading holy terror wherever that you go.
Aliases you have had, maybe up to five.
The third one, Dr. Bart, was not long alive.
As Norman, the original, you came back from the dead -
once again to fill our hero Spider-man with dread.
Norman’s son Harry used the serum too.
And Green Goblins many powers harry knew.
Superhuman strength and agility
and a genius too with regenerative ability.
Driven quite insane, you only wish to kill
and destroy all everywhere you’ve been.
“The five” incapacitated you, yet still
I bet we’ll be seeing you again and again.
March 22, 2023
Marvel Superheroes Supervillians And Superanimals Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori
In these days and times
Women are not having
Large family's anymore because
They can't raise their kids properly
Without constant interference
From the laws and unfair rules
As a parent you love your kids
And some are a holy terror
But still why would any person
Go back in time and change
A fifty-year-old law that was
Place there for a valid reason
Like some human's lack of control
Some fathers, date rape drugs etc.,
Taking away a women's right to
Have control of her life, body and future
Is it just to build up the population?
What happen to free will or
A person's constitutional rights
In the end, It'll be more deaths
Child abuse, overcrowded foster homes
Look at some adults today, it makes
You wonder
Holy terror was the blue eyed queen
Everyone said she was totally mean
Fully terrified
From her he would hide
Luke, her manservant, who was seldom seen.
Come over here, she told him one day.
He was hiding in shadows far away.
Are you my Luke?
You little kook!
Come to my chambers. I want to play.
Luke was shivering and shaking now.
Feeling she would slaughter him like a cow.
She had another plan.
Called him her big man.
Let’s just say his delight was a giant wow!
The absolute joy of knowing, like a child, you are forever in
His hands.
That the pompous leaders, all, cannot your soul demand.
That media are just media and do make grievous errors.
So you learn to use Snopes before demeaning anyone,
like a self-righteous holy terror!
You swim in cerulean waves for each moment of life in gratitude.
Negativity and fear? No, you give them absolutely no latitude.
Sadness is a word accursed to you!
As you find compassionate things for humanity to do.
Ignored you may be~nobody cares for your positivity.
They dine day and night, like gluttons at the table of
rank, negativity.
For them, the world is scary and ending!
But in grace, you know each day is just a beginning.
You walk about in silver sandals, with a gardenia in your hair.
Gratitude and courage, a most intoxicating, heavenly pair!
April 3, 2020
2am PST
This is story which people will tell;
They sat on shore for a short spell,
And clamored;
Were enamored,
While they had counted each shell.
Jim Horn
Trump Appears To Be Showing Off
Trump appears again to show off,
When he will play a round of golf,
With putter,
Will stutter;
More money for him up must cough.
As usual what we had Feared;
Trump said Jesus wore a beard,
While walking,
And talking
Both of them would look weird.
God said that Trump liked to tweet
While his big bottom sits on a seat;
Being Bluster,
In a cluster;
Happily him Democrats did defeat.
Trump With Iron Was Over Wrought
Trump with iron was over wrought;
How terrible had been his each shot,
We know still,
Is an imbecile,
And great player who is hot to trot.
Jim Horn
PS. Need someone who will proof
my poems for me.
Trump always would trying to bond;
What he really did was to abscond;
Some say, One day,
Brains had been placed in a pond.
Danger did appear to be imminent;
About it they would be vehement;
Holy terror,
A big error;
Erroneous message had been sent.
What incorrigible means is not able to
be corrected, improved, or reformed.
Trump Truly Has Tendency
Trump does have tendency to be deplorable,
And at same time is also terribly incorrigible;
Bad news bearer;
Been holy terror,
Always thinks he is preferable and adorable.
Jim Horn
Heading towards 6,000.
I have a dog named Two-bits
Once had a dog named Dollar
Two-bits never comes when called
Not even when you holler.
Dollar was the better dog
Dutiful and gentle
Two-bits barks at his own tail
And might be slightly mental.
Lost a good dog, really miss him
He loved all the kids and kittens
Replaced him with a holy terror
Who killed the neighbor's chickens.
Come here, Two-bits, come here, come
Come-come-come-boy! Dammit come!
Here's your favorite squeaky toy!
Get your ass in here, you bum!
Corinthians One and Done
As a result of God's greatest grace,
We have been of;f to a poetry race;
Mine were bad and did not improve,
And from Facebook they did remove.
Write many more poems you will do;
Replaced all of mine and are in lieu,
And when overexposed to sexuality,
Like in Trump found another fatality.
God had made His greatest big error,
By turning Trump into a holy terror,
When with Bible was over and done;
One Corinthians had been best one.
Jim Horn
Had to correct last line.
Received Several Requests
Did receive several requests to write this:
Point may refuse or maybe might miss;
Am bad news bearer;
Trump is holy terror,
And daily own death he does often kiss.
Jim Horn
We who have made a lot of struggle in this lovely garden
And have seen how a river can flow on like a jingling girl
Overlooking the muck and mud accompanying the stream
That tries to arrest the dream, full of beautiful movement
Know very well how to rise above the holy terror
We who have walked a long path amidst the colorful strife
And have seen in life the sparkle of sun in its ups and downs
Avoiding the black sheep and others of the ilk horsing around
With a view to mar the music to ensure the sun is suppressed
Know very well how to ride the waves despite the irritants.
We who have seen a great deal in our life of fair and foul
And have seen the blue sky dance on the breeze in drizzle
Ignoring the carbon and sulfur busy at polluting the air
That seeks to rob the rhythm of its purple romance
Know very well how to keep away from the bad apples
We who have seen how the raindrops make love in the boughs
Can of course rise above those who prefer living out of line
________________________________________________________
June 13, 2016
For Rise Above It – Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Becca Teagan
Haunting Trump Taunting
Haunting Trump Taunting
And over our heads vaunting
Appearance daunting.
Bad news am shearer
And again the sad bearer
Trump holy terror.
Party inviting
A President presiding
He should be hiding.
Always occurring
Politics and posturing
Some things still stirring.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
Someone Sick Like This
Those having weapons that are high-powered
I am sure they probably could be a coward
Someone having actions being predictable
And all turning out being totally despicable.
Love shooting animals for fun of it all
Beating beautiful baby to see it bawl
Not only that they are a complete fool
To others are always being so cruel.
When child were bad with no ones consent
Why have someone like that for President
A holy terror sure are continually being
Did run over others when downhill skiing.
Never to anyone is he ever being nice
Same goes for President who is vice
Together they will make a perfect pair.
Daylights out of us all they will scare.
James Thesarious Hilarious Horn
Retired Soldier and Poet
For shall the almighty dance with wickedness
Freasting darkness solidifies clashing swords
Forsaking us illuminates our lust for fulfillment
Attributes for grace heightens desolation’s plot
Fiend mends the holy terror back to life
Your gracefulness is deafening to us sinners
Exuberant romance awaken golden hour twilight
Lightlessness fuel starts to shed our midnight skins,
Letting us rejoice among the self-righteousness waters
Perplexing there was no storm in the Lords
Storms among harts in airlings wings has forsaken ourselves
Between my soul and God there yawns
a chasm stretching out so wide
I cannot see the other side
from where I stand against the dawn.
How great the gulf of human pride,
of degradation, sin and woe;
yet, I the true depth do not know
nor can I judge it where I hide
among the trees, all covered o'er
with self-made robes my mind contrives
of dubious good deeds and lies,
just withered fig leaves, nothing more.
My soul cries out in agony,
"can no one turn the dreadful tide?"
And Christ, the one I have defied,
stoops down to taste my misery.
My heart is wrung in Sorrow's grip;
an awful pounding fills the air,
and, like a dog in mad despair
with glassy eyes and foaming lip,
I stare in holy terror now
as upward, out of that dark deep,
a cross takes form. From steep to steep,
it spans the gulf to where I bow.
There, in my night, I dimly see
the Son of God slain, crucified:
how can two arms stretch out so wide
in love to bridge infinity?
© 1987, Faye Lanham Gibson
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